


A Dwindled Dawn

by Irrelevancy



Series: Pride is not the word [2]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Compliant, F/F, Lesbian Character, Pining, fem!Hak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, Soo-Won called Hak beautiful.</p><p>That very afternoon, Hak took a dagger and sawed off the shaggy lengths of her hair. She had thought the general windswept-bird nest-mess of the whole thing would be enough, but Soo-Won, with his keen eyes and kind intentions had swept Hak’s bangs back and called her <i>beautiful</i>.</p><p>In front of Yona.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dwindled Dawn

_"My dear,_  
_Find what you love and let it kill you."_  
_-Charles Bukowski_

* * *

 

Once, Soo-Won called Hak beautiful.

That very afternoon, Hak took a dagger and sawed off the shaggy lengths of her hair. She had thought the general windswept-bird nest-mess of the whole thing would be enough, but Soo-Won, with his keen eyes and kind intentions had swept Hak’s bangs back and called her  _beautiful._

In front of Yona.

This was after the Queen’s death, and Hak watched in horror as Yona’s smile crumbled. Soo-Won, to his credit, quickly realized that he had done something wrong as well, and spent the day paying extra close attention to Yona. Hak quickly excused herself by claiming training, and that evening, at dinner, Soo-Won didn’t make a single comment about her shorn hair.

Later that night, Yona popped her head over the patio deck of the room Hak and Elder Mundock stayed in. She clutched a pair of scissors in her small, pale hands.  _C’mere,_  she beckoned with her head, and seated Hak at the edge of the deck before reaching for Hak’s hair.

“Hak’s hair is so soft and smooth,” she said quietly, running her fingers reverently across Hak’s scalp. Hak felt a shiver run down her spine, and fought to stay still. “It’d be such a shame if you left it like this.”

“You want me to be your doll, Princess?” Hak joked, her voice a bit too rough. “Play dress up with me?”

“Can I?”

A feeling a lot like battlelust, but also panic, coursed through Hak’s body.  _Yes, I’m yours_ , she wanted to say, or,  _No, I’m scared_ — meaning the exact same thing. She clenched her teeth, her toes curling in her shoes.

“Not the clothes or anything,” Yona added, fingers playing carelessly at Hak’s collar. Under the cover of night, Hak’s cheeks still felt too flushed, too obviously red with embarrassment. She could never keep her composure around the Princess— how shameful, how inexplicable.

(How  _delightful_ , in the middle of the night when it’s just Hak’s mind to herself, and she recalled Yona’s quiet integrity but flustered hysterics and  _loved_ , with all her heart.)

“Let me fix your hair, Hak? Please?” and there was an undercurrent of guilt. Yona, of course, felt responsible for Hak cutting her hair, but was happy enough about its effect. Hak was too, obviously, but wondered how that might change if she let Yona fix it. She was hardly blind and deaf to the compliments her tribespeople liked to toss her way, and knew that if Yona corrected the ragged, feathered chunks of her hair now, Hak’s efforts might’ve been for naught.

…But more presently, Hak wondered how she could refuse the princess, who pressed so close and warm and looked so beseechingly up at Hak. With a loud, deliberate sigh, Hak leaned her head back.

“Have at it. I guess no matter how badly you mess up, it’ll always grow back right?”

Chuckling at Yona’s indignant punches to her shoulder, Hak turned her gaze to the moon. Posed like this, Hak was baring her neck, an act of vulnerability she’s long-since been trained out of. The more she thought, the more aware she felt of all the shadows, the possibility of an assassin who might want to aim an arrow her way.

Aim an arrow  _Yona’s_  way.

“Emperor Il talked to me this morning,” Hak murmured. The soft sounds of the scissors at work around her ears were lulling; Hak felt like she was speaking through a trance. “About you.”

“What about me?” Yona asked absently, her knuckles pressing gently into the dip above Hak’s ear. The physical sensations that were almost overwhelming Hak’s breath, stained with moonlight— it made her brave. It made her heart clench like a fist around a sword, and Hak never hesitated to wade into battle.

“That I should stay with you forever.” And, “I said yes.”

Hak hasn’t, actually. She had refused the bodyguard position and walked away trying to convince herself that the weird suspension in her chest was relief. But now, Yona was putting down the scissors, had gone quiet, and inside Hak was yelling _I messed up I messed up._

And then Yona’s arms curled around Hak’s bared neck.

“That’s great! —But what do you mean?” she exclaimed— a little too loudly, but the ringing in Hak’s ears had already started before that. Yona’s thick and crinkled hair tumbled past Hak’s collar, her body pressed flush against Hak’s back. And it was too much, too much, Hak tore herself away and fell hard to her knees. She took Yona’s hand, soft and small, into her rough, calloused grasp.

“It means I’m yours to command.”  _My spear, my body, my life._  It felt better down here, on her knees by Yona’s feet. The moon watched the prostrating bow of Hak’s neck, and it no longer felt like there was a sword at her jugular, a noose at her throat. All the anxiety and mania that roiled under Hak’s skin— they were best channeled into punches and swings of blades, not shaky touches and trembling grasps. Bloody kisses. Hak bit down on her tongue, and half prayed for Soo-Won to show up. Prince charmings ought to come swooping in at times of great need. Except Hak wasn’t the one who needed taking away, she needed Soo-Won to take a blushing Yona by the hand and turn their backs on her. She needed Soo-Won, one of the greatest people she’s ever known, to get Yona out of her reach, to tell her that she can’t compare. Watch their backs. Protect their happiness. Stand at parade rest with her hands safely tucked away so she doesn’t even try to break that sacred, happy thing of a girl and a boy in love with each other. Hak was a hurricane, Hak was blood— she was things entirely unfit to love anyone, much less a princess.

“I’m your exclusive bodyguard from now on, even after Elder Mundock retires and I become the Wind Tribe’s general.”  _I will cut down all that stands in the way of your happiness._

Even herself.

Hak’s hair feathered behind her ears now, and a little ways down her neck. Yona hadn’t quite gotten to her bangs, but Hak figured this was better, longer strands to duck her glances behind. She hid now, a small hopeless smile on her lips visible by the moon. She could see Yona’s confused, but pleased little grin, the happy kicks of her delicate feet. Hak thought,  _one last indulgence_ , and pressed a single, warm kiss to the back of Yona’s fingers.

And so a seal was made, and Hak pulled her hands away.


End file.
